Albus Potter and the Magical Muggle
by Nullus Fiction
Summary: Albus Potter is the first squib admitted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He must adapt inside a school willing to destroy itself, all because of a new teacher, an old book, and some mysterious happenings inside the Forbidden Forest. Join him while he faces mortal dangers within the corridors, all without a shred of magical ability.
1. The Sorting Ceremony

**The Sorting Ceremony**

Tucked away secretly in the Scottish Highlands, a castle sat in a small valley. It was well isolated from neighboring towns and villages, and its stone towers loomed over a lake which stretched around the castle's perimeter. Apart from a poorly-kept courtyard and several acres of front yard, the castle was enclosed by a thick, gloomy forest. The foliage was warped and stained, as if tainted by an evil blight, and strange noises echoed over the rolling, tree-covered hilltops.

After the Sun dropped below the horizon, and the last rays of daylight dissipated in clouds above, a thin portion of the forest was illuminated by soft torchlight. A convoy of carriages was being driven toward the castle, and occupants were delivered to the courtyard. Sounds of animated children filled the air, rising in volume as more carriages arrived, until the oak doors swung open and welcomed the dark-robed crowd into an entrance hall.

In another direction, along the castle's east wing, a procession of small boats sailed across the lake water, each filled by two or three children. One carried a dark-haired boy at its bow, and he gazed upon the gigantic structure before him with a hint of a smile on his lips. He absentmindedly traced his fingers through the passing lake water while the boat sailed forward without any discernible forces acting on it. The boy would have questioned how the vessel was driven, but he knew exactly how it worked: the boat was fueled by magic, of course. Any wizarding child would have known it.

The undisturbed water of the Black Lake was smooth against the boy's hand. Albus Potter could see the castle's reflection well over the shimmery surface, and he was impressed by the sheer volume of the castle. He had seen Hogwarts before, but the ancient school seemed more striking in the darkness of twilight. The other first years, especially the muggleborns, were staring slack-jawed at the building. Albus' ears perked up as the children began speaking to each other.

"I was so sure it was all a prank, was utterly sure of it." one muttered to his boat-mates.

"Really? I was sold when a teacher turned our tea-kettle into a horse. Mum was upset that he'd forgotten to change it back."

Albus eyed the other students with a small amount of envy. None of them had any idea about magic, or anything of his world, until a short while ago. They could have been plain muggles and been happy about it, ignorant of their incapacity. Albus, however, had been plainly aware of his disability. He was a squib, left with a half-life. He fit in neither the muggle or magical world.

His brother James would certainly grow to be a formidable wizard; he had levitated the kitchen table by the age of four, and Lily wasn't far behind him. Albus still sported a welt on his backside from an accidental stinging hex, having been delivered after he'd stolen her dessert last week.

Well, his prospects weren't _completely_ hopeless. Hogwarts had admitted him conditionally, enrolling him in an experimental program. The magical school had denied entry to people like him for centuries, but the Ministry of Magic had convinced the Board of Governors to implement a new curriculum for squibs, like himself, so children like himself could be prepared for life without magic.

The thought reminded him of a letter, which was kept in his robe pocket. His father had asked him to open it when he arrived at the castle, since it wouldn't open until it registered the Hogwarts' magical wards. Albus suspected his aunt Hermione had secured the letter; Harry Potter was a talented wizard, but he was awful with warding spells. Albus dug the letter from his pocket, accidentally fishing out some chocolate wrappers with it, and gingerly opened the envelope. It was difficult to read under the torch-light, but his father had thankfully practiced his quill-work.

 _Al,_

 _You may feel put-out with the other students. You no doubt wonder why some of them have been given such a gift while you must learn to live without it. We have spoken about the topic many times, and you've told me not to worry about it, but I know it bothers you.. I hope you find friends with whom to confide, as I did at Hogwarts. Perhaps you will find a mentor, also. I would have been killed many years ago had it not been for Professor Dumbledore or Sirius Black._

 _At any rate, I believe you will find making friends easier than expected. While you know of several other squibs also attending this year, I haven't told you about the others. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but for apparent reasons we wanted to wait until everyone was at Hogwarts until we made the announcement._

 _Muggle children will be attending Hogwarts this year._

 _The Ministry has decided to invite the muggles because, as you know, we need to establish positive relations in case we must disclose ourselves to the rest of the world. We must show partnership with the muggles early if we have any hope at all to gain their trust. I tell you this now so that you understand the opportunity to make friends with anyone who may help you overcome whatever challenges you may face in the coming years, and we both know to never underestimate the cleverness of our non-magical counterparts._

 _I implore you to remain tactful over the next few months, because of the common hard-feelings toward muggles. That attack last week could have been tragic, if we hadn't been tipped off, and we're sure that more are on the way. Try to protect those around you however you can, but don't risk your own safety. (which is stupid of me to say, but it's my job as your father to say it nonetheless.)_

 _I've included a piece of parchment with this letter. Keep it hidden and safe. Once you've learned how it works, you will have deserved the right to use it. I'll go ahead and tell you that it's wicked complicated, so you better get started._

 _Please write home after your sorting. You know we will be proud of you no matter where you go. Each house would be honored to have you among its ranks. I love you, son._

 _Good Luck,_

 _Dad_

 _P.S._ \- _Please don't make enemies with Malfoy._

Albus felt guilty about his jealousy of the other students. Any of them could be a poor muggle, having no clue of the dangers associated with their title. He eyed the other boat to inspect them. The first boy was rather short, with long brown hair. He had a stubby nose and squared glasses. The girl who owned the kettle-horse was very pleasing to the eye, with shoulder-length blond hair and a heart shaped face. Albus couldn't tell in the dark, but she seemed to have bright green eyes. The other was a dark-skinned, lanky boy with a sharp jaw. He seemed to smile a lot.

Albus pocketed his letter, along with the mysterious parchment, and began to mull over what he had learned.

"MIND YER HEADS!" boomed Hagrid.

The boats approached the castle, and Albus swatted vines from his face as he sailed underneath. Rose Weasley, his cousin, simply parted the plants with her wand. She was a bit of a show-off, Albus admitted.

She leaned toward him, face stern, and asked, "What did the letter say?"

"Well … ", Albus replied, "I expect you'll find out soon." She didn't enjoy being left in the dark, which was precisely why Albus hadn't told her. Being a squib meant you had to make your jabs when you could. She would have grilled him with more questions, had she not been distracted by one of the students falling into the lake.

O

Neville Longbottom stood over the first-years, trying to appear intimidating. "Your house will determine where you sleep, where you eat, and how you live inside the castle. Rule breaking will _lose_ your house points, and successes will _earn_ your house points. The end of the term will prove which house deserves the house cup."

Scorpius Malfoy noticeably rolled his eyes, silently speaking something to his friends. Albus thought he caught the word, "Hufflepoofs".

Professor Longbottom cleared his throat, eyeing the Malfoy closely, and continued. "You will now be led to the sorting ceremony, where you will be chosen for your house. I hope that you all," he took a moment to look at Scorpius, "will respect one another while waiting your turn."

The doors behind the professor opened, and light poured over the first-years. The Great Hall was bigger than Albus remembered, and he didn't recall the hundreds of floating candles, now suspended below the star-spotted ceiling.

A still-dripping first-year gasped in wonder. He turned to another, pointing up, and exclaimed, "Look at that ceiling! How did they manage it?"

Neville turned and spoke over his shoulder, "Magic, Mr. Adkins, is how we managed it."

Professor Longbottom began their march to the front of the hall, with the older students barely noticing the event. They had, Albus noticed, seen this many times before. He stood on his toes to get a glance of his brother, but couldn't find him among the sea of black and crimson robes at the Gryffindor table. Albus abruptly turned around when he heard somebody begin to sing.

It was a hat.

 _Hogwarts, a castle of learning and thought,_

 _A place you'll hate to leave._

 _I don't know what you'll be taught,_

 _But where you go, that's up to me._

 _Invite me into your fresh new heads,_

 _I have your interest at heart._

 _Don't feel the common sense of dread,_

 _Of a new life about to start._

 _The founders were good magical folk,_

 _With a need to teach and dream._

 _Of a world where children could learn and live,_

 _And become the best to be._

 _Will you go to Gryffindor House,_

 _And ready your hearts to fight._

 _Or is your place in Slytherin,_

 _To continue Salazar's plight._

 _Perhaps you'll be in Ravenclaw,_

 _A house of knowledge and mind._

 _Or Maybe you'll go to Hufflepuff,_

 _Proud friends of every kind._

 _I won't promise to do as you say,_

 _I'll place you where you need._

 _To better yourself and better the else,_

 _No matter your blood nor creed._

 _It's time we stand for one another,_

 _To speak to the powers outside,_

 _Enough with the hate, the cowardice, the pace!_

 _Toward a world best left behind._

 _Put me on and wear me proud,_

 _But please don't drag your feet._

 _I'll put you where you need to go,_

 _Open your mind and take a seat!_

The Great Hall erupted in applause, aside from most of the Slytherins, and Albus finally found his brother. James was standing up, clapping his hands, and grinning at Al.

"When I call your name", shouted Neville, "please advance to the platform to be sorted."

Albus felt is stomach grow cold, like it usually did when something bad was going to happen. What would happen to him if Neville forgot call his name? What if the squib program was just a big misunderstanding? Neville read from a scroll, standing beside the stool, hat in hand. "Adkins, Henry!" he shouted, silencing the tables.

The muggleborn stepped up to the stool and glanced nervously around the hall. Albus hoped fewer of his peers would take so long just to get the hat on their head, since he heard from James how long the sorting ceremony could be. Somebody had told him his dad took five full minutes under the brim of the Sorting Hat. After the boy when to Hufflepuff, the pace quickened. Gryffindor got one first-year, Ravenclaw got three, Slytherin gained a new Malfoy plus a henchman, and Hufflepuff welcomed two more students. Albus began to sweat as the alphabet climbed dangerously close to the P's.

"Odette, Valerie!"

The blonde girl stepped onto the platform, head high. Albus admired her resolve, since he was sure he'd make a fool of himself in a few moments. He waited for the sorting hat to finish.

And then he waited some more.

Albus could feel his nerves, or what was left of them, constricting and churning while he waited; he couldn't help but to imagine the hat leaping from the muggle girl's head in distaste, just before doing the same to himself.

In that moment, fortunately for Albus, the hat had reached a decision, it ripped open its seems and announced loudly to the crowd, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The girl jumped from the stool ecstatically, and she nearly ran off with the hat still on her head. Neville grabbed it as she passed him, running to make new friends at the table of the brave and righteous.

"Potter, Albus!" Neville shouted.

The hall was instantly silenced. Albus looked forward and stepped toward his fate. He awkwardly climbed onto the seat and sat frozen beneath the stares of the students. Neville gently placed the sorting hat on his head, which rested just below his brow. The sorting hat's voice was raspy, as Albus would have expected, and it rang between the corners of his mind. " _Well, it seems like we have another Potter… what should we do with you?"_

 _"_ _Not put me in Slytherin."_ Albus thought, hoping the hat could hear him.

 _"Your brother told me that, your father did too, and his father, also. Perhaps it's time to break the pattern, Albus?"_

 _"_ _Put me where you think I will do best, but I'm not going to Slytherin. They'd kill me for what I am."_

 _"Yes, I have no doubt about that either. Slytherin is not the place for you. You have much empathy for a child. Perhaps Hufflepuff? Although your mind is sharp... and you have a fierce need to protect your family and friends. I'd say you would do well in any of the three other houses."_

Albus was aware of the occupants in the hall. Everyone had grown eerily quiet, besides for the hushed whispers of students making the odd bet. Albus wondered how much gold he would cost someone.

" _Then put me where my family is, in Gryffindor."_

 _"You will find some opposition there, you know. Gryffindors wear the title of bold and right, but they may not welcome someone with your… condition. At least, not as much as Hufflepuff. They would truly accept you there."_

 _"_ _Place me where I could better benefit those around me, especially my family. That is all I ask."_

 _"Very well, Albus. You shall go to…."_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table exploded with excitement. The Weasleys jumped to their feet and clapped their hands, while James had managed to transfigure a crude trumpet to play badly over the applause. Fred Weasley's wand made a loud popping noise, showering nearby students with champagne and confetti. Albus took off the hat, whispering a quick thank you, and made his way to his new home. He sat next to his brother, accepting several pats on the back and handshakes.

"So you finally made it, you little squirt!" James said, punching him on the shoulder. "I just made five sickles thanks to you. Here's one for yourself, seeing how you did the work. Don't go spending it all at one place."

Albus graciously accepted the money, which was something his mum rarely let them keep much of. She said it built character. He suspected she just didn't trust them with it. Which was well-deserved, he had to admit.

He leaned toward his brother and whispered, "I bet four sickles Rose goes to Ravenclaw."

"Al, she's a Weasley. Don't be daft."

"She's also created two new spells since buying her books. Bet or not?"

"Deal."

Several more students were distributed between the houses, and Albus tried to remember their names for future use. Although it wouldn't matter too much, seeing how he wouldn't have many classes with any of them, since he was a squib.

"Weasley, Rose!" Neville called out, smiling at the child. He had already known she was a genius. A few of the plants in the greenhouses were grown by her. Albus and James leaned forward, not bothering to feel guilty about betting on their cousin's future. Money didn't make itself after all.

The sorting hat was dropped on her red hair and immediately shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

James pumped his fist in the air. "HA!"

Albus was happy, even though he'd lost his gold. Rose would prove invaluable in the study hall, and she was pleasant sometimes, when she tried. Albus smiled and patted her on the shoulder as she passed him to gain her seat at the table. With the ceremony finished, and greetings completed, everyone's attention turned toward the head table, where Neville, Hagrid, and the other professors sat. Albus recognized a few faces, but most of the faculty where unknown to him.

The headmaster, Gladys Whitaker, stood to his podium and stretched his hands. He was an elderly man with a short grey beard and a star dotted, lightning blue hat on his head. The man tended to favor his left side. "Welcome back to Hogwarts for another year of invigorating education! We're all very excited for the upcoming term, and I have several announcements to make. Firstly, our resilient caretaker, Mr. Filch, has updated our prohibited items list. You may read this list in your dormitories, where it is posted on your bulletin board. The Forbidden Forest is, again, off-limits to all students, and we have introduced many changes to our curriculum this year. All students should look over the pamphlets we have provided in your common rooms. Also, we have several new instructors to introduce this evening. Firstly, meet Professor Odette, a renowned expert in his field of theoretical physics."

A skinny, balding man stood from his seat. He wore rounded glasses and a trimmed red beard. He appeared to be good natured, with a wide smile and positive demeanor. For some inexplicable reason, he wore a muggle suit. He briefly waved his hand and sat down before anyone could figure out what is field of specialty exactly meant. Most the students wore frowns of concentration, and a select few of the Slytherins looked murderous. A voice rang out from across the hall. "You can't possibly be implying that we learn magic from a MUGGLE!"

The headmaster's head swiveled toward the Slytherin table, his eyed narrowed. "Correct, Mr. Harper! I never implied anything. I stated it plain as day. You will attend classes, like your peers, under the instruction of Dr. Odette. He will be teaching our Magical Theory courses, and I would love to see you try to find someone more qualified. I hope your tone of voice was surprise rather than indignation, else I would have to sentence you to detention for the rest of the year for your outburst."

The Slytherin attempted to reign in control of his voice. "I intended no transgression toward our… _esteemed_ instructor. I am only at a loss to realize how he may instruct us on a subject he has never practiced. Muggle science is known to be a bag of tricks."

It was the new professor who replied, with a happy, tolerant tone. "When you magic your way to the Moon and back, Mr. Harper, I would consider listening to your criticisms. Until that moment you will simply have to trust my bag of tricks, however crude you think it is. Professor, let us introduce our other professors. I'd say the students will resort to cannibalism soon enough."

Headmaster Whitaker barked a short laugh, though Albus wasn't sure which statement he found amusing, and continued with his introductions.

Albus couldn't pay attention to the rest of the announcements, as he was focused on the blonde muggleborn down the table. She had slipped a few tears and was trying to subtly wipe them from her cheeks. Albus was unsure whether they were from sadness or anger, considering she looked to be in both states simultaneously. He switched his gaze back to the new theory professor, then the realization struck him. _They were family._

James turned to his brother and whispered in a hushed tone, "You get a letter from dad?"

"Yeah."

"Then I assume you just made the same connection I did. We need to watch the backs of our special students this year. The Slytherins are already furious and they haven't even heard the worst of it."

Albus didn't reply, but nodded his head in agreement. They would discover the identities of the muggles soon enough, assuming the Slytherins didn't get to them first.

Then, suddenly enough to startle him, platters of food appeared in front of the ravenous students. James swatted Al's hand away from the chicken legs, claiming the plate for himself. His brother muttered something about the ickey firsties learning the social hierarchy before Fred Weasley summoned the platter out of James' hand to his own.

O

Albus found the Gryffindor common room to be spacious, thankfully, and quite cozy. Furniture was strewn haphazardly around, the older pieces well worn-in, and the crimson walls spotted with the occasional spell mark. The house-elves apparently couldn't keep up with the shenanigans of Hogwarts' most disorderly group of students, and Albus wondered if they had stopped trying. The fireplace was impressive, the most redeeming feature of the room, and many returning students had rushed to their favorite seats to enjoy smuggled butter beer by the hearth.

The first-years' prefect spoke a few words about the house rules and customs, making sure to mention the girls' sliding staircase, albeit with flushed cheeks and some snickers from the older students. Eventually, with formalities concluded, the Gryffindors dispersed throughout the tower. A good majority had gone to bed, in hopes of being well-rested for the first day of classes, but the excited first years and rebellious older students relaxed by the fire. Albus picked his issued pamphlet from his robes, like most of the others, and looked it over. His gaze shifted to the title, FIRST YEAR COURSE ADAPTATIONS, and drew a breath.

 _First-Year Students,_

 _We are pleased to enact an investigational program for our Hogwarts curriculum, which will offer courses to both magical and non-magical youths. Our aim is to educate squib children, and visiting muggles, in a specialized skill-set so they may become a viable workforce within our ever-changing magical industries. While each category of student will sometimes attend classes exclusively with their own kind, there will be considerable overlap in classes. Magical students will be defined as any student capable of using a wand unassisted, while non-magical students will consist of both muggles and squibs. All first-year courses are as follows:_

NON-MAGICAL CORE CURRICULUM

 **Mixed Attendance**

Magical Theory

Survey of Brewing

History of Magic

Herbology Fundamentals

 **Exclusive Attendance**

Muggle Civilization

Muggle Literature

Muggle Science

MAGICAL CORE CURRICULUM

 **Mixed Attendance**

Magical Theory

Survey of Brewing

History of Magic

Herbology Fundamentals

 **Exclusive Attendance**

Principles of Defense

Survey of Charms

Basic Transfiguration

An older student whistled loudly, reading his with raised eyebrows. "I would give ten galleons to hear the Slytherins' common room right now."

Fred Weasley looked up, eyes gleaming. "They will drown themselves in the lake!"

"Or jump from the Astronomy Tower?"

"Harper will be so distraught in Potions he might poison himself."

James didn't join their discussion, to the surprise of his brother, but rather looked at his own pamphlet with a pensive expression. He slowly stood up, running fingers through his hair. "What does it mean by using a wand _unassisted_?"

The small group was silenced by his remark, and the feel-good atmosphere disappeared. Rick Jordan, a fifth year Albus had met earlier, shook his head in confusion.

"Professor Hagrid uses that umbrella, doesn't he? Could that have something to do with it?"

"No, that wouldn't", Rose disagreed, "Hagrid is a normal wizard with a wand _inside_ his umbrella. This language implies that non-wizards can still use a wand, if given some sort of help. Likely a potion or sp…"

She was interrupted by more Gryffindors, who had picked up on the conversation.

A beady-eyed fourth year, seemingly proud of the patchy facial hair he'd recently grown, waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. "No way. If muggles figured out a way to use magic, there's no possible way we'd be standing here. The whole planet would have imploded months ago."

Rose rolled her eyes but responded with a patient voice. "It wouldn't be common knowledge. I doubt more than a handful of them would even know about it, let alone how to actually use it."

"What do you mean, imploded?" James asked. "Muggles might be a little eager sometimes, but they're not reckless."

Rick Jordan directed an angry glare at James. "What? You call Hiroshima A LITTLE EAGER?"

"The American's don't count. Of course, they'd manage to muck it up."

"THEY'D BE THE FIRST TO KNOW ABOUT IT!"

Albus covered his ears as the whole common room exploded with arguments. He saw Rose drawing out some type of diagram in the air with her wand, James had his finger pointed in the face of a much larger seventh-year, and Fred Weasley screamed things like "MUGGLES ARE EVIL", just to encourage the debate.

Albus caught a brief glimpse of Valerie Odette as she rushed up the stairs to her dormitory. He remembered what his father had told him, about the political fallout of Hogwarts' decision, and he became impossibly frustrated. How many Muggles were at Hogwarts? In the common room? How did they feel about the harsh criticism being thrown around so lightly? Were they afraid for their own safety, as Albus was concerned for his own? They should be, he realized, since they were unimaginably bigger targets than himself. He had thought the muggle students could seek refuge behind the Fat Lady's portrait, the supposed domain of Godric Gryffindor.

But he was wrong. The very same bigotry, although diluted, existed everywhere in the wizarding world. While most wizards and witches didn't mind muggles _personally_ , they still feared them and their technology. His father told him the muggles would eventually discover magic on their own. Either by finding it in nature by themselves, or by finding traces of wizards, the muggles would connect the dots eventually. His father told them they should decide to bridge the cultural gap in effort to ease the blow when all hell broke loose. That's why the Odettes were here. The professor had sacrificed his muggle life to help wizards advance into a new era. Muggles like him were throwing their lives away, but were ostracized only for the blood in their veins.

Death Eater ideology ran deeper in the wizarding world than Albus expected.

His face heated up and his blood grew cold. "DID ANY OF YOU," he yelled, "in your infinite wisdom, happen to realize that muggles were here with us? That there was a large chance we'd have some in this room RIGHT NOW?" He didn't bother to look at the faces of the students. He grabbed his bag and headed for his dormitory, in hopes he hadn't earned any enemies before classes started.

He mentally berated himself for losing his control. He had always been proud of his mild temperament, aside from the odd shouting matches he shared with James. He rested his forehead against his wooden dormitory door.

Breakfast would be awkward.

The dormitory housed two beds, and Albus quickly claimed one far away from the window, because his brother warned him of the chilly Scottish winters. Albus wasn't sure if magic could duplicate muggle heating systems; he suspected it could but wizards just didn't bother with it.

Another first-year was sitting on his mattress, admiring the curtain of his four-poster bed, tracing his fingers along the satin sheets. Al didn't blame him. The beds _were_ rather magnificent. Albus remembered him as the one who shared a boat with Valerie Odette and Henry Adkins. "Wotcher, mate!" the boy said, "My name's Dan Culper, I suppose you'd be Al Potter?"

"Yep, that's me."

"Very good, that. I don't know what it means, seeing how both my parents are muggles, but I reckon your family is good folk, what with how the others talk about your dad. Is he famous or something?"

Albus laughed.

"Right, I guess that means a definite 'yes', or a definite 'no'. Which is it then?"

"It's a 'yes' the size of a mountain troll." Albus said while dragging his trunk to the bottom of his four-poster bed. "He killed a dark wizard a couple decades ago, supposedly the worst England has ever seen. Well, and there was the time about the dragon on the Thames… but I can't remember much about that one. I was really little."

Dan looked skeptical. "Dragons are real? How'd you manage to hide stuff like that?"

"Simple, Dan." Albus said cheerily. "We don't hide it. At least, we can't much anymore. Muggle cell phones will muck up the statute of secrecy eventually. It's only a matter of time."

"Whoa. What'll happen then?"

Albus crashed onto his bed and looked at the full moon through the smudged window. "I don't know Dan. Maybe the teachers will help explain it …" Albus yawned loudly. "We should mention it to the muggle professor. He might know."

"Yeah! Good idea, Al." Dan responded. "Hey, what's a squib?"

Albus didn't respond, because he had already drifted to sleep. His roommate Dan also fell asleep soon after, also victim to the bed's sleeping charm that their prefect had forgotten to mention.


	2. Magic for Beginners

**Magic for Beginners**

Albus had spent his whole life with the Potter-Weasley clan, so he was naturally accustomed to waking up abruptly by unorthodox methods. His mother had once doused him in pepper-up potion, James had thrown an elderly Crookshanks onto his face, and Lily had crammed canary creams into his mouth.

But never, until that morning, had anyone bodily lifted him from his mattress and deposited him, feet on the floor, facing the bathroom.

He heard Dan shouting in his ear, "Oi, Potter! We're going to be late."

Albus blinked furiously, trying to find his balance. "Wuzza Time?"

Dan stepped into his shoes, not bothering with his laces. "Herbology starts in ten minutes."

Albus rushed into the bathroom grunting unintelligibly. He jammed a toothbrush into his mouth and tried to pat his hair down with a wetted cloth. It didn't work well.

His roommate shouted from the bottom of the stairs, "Fred told me Longbottom keeps a longsword hung over his desk and uses it on tardy students." He slung a pack over his shoulder. "I reckon I'll be okay, so long as I get there before you do."

Albus hoped the bugger got lost. He heard that the portraits would give first-years wrong directions sometimes, just for kicks, though he wasn't sure if it was true. Hogwarts tales were like that. Even his dad would exaggerate sometimes, if the story wasn't crucially important. A perfect example was the whomping willow, a tale that was obviously made-up.

He scrambled into a fresh set of robes, passively wondering what stories he might tell his own children someday, assuming he ever found a girl to have any with. He reckoned every female on the planet was barking mad.

Albus rushed down to the third-floor corridor, where he ducked behind a tapestry, sprinted down a tunnel, and crawled through a trap-door leading outside. He was only a few moments away from the greenhouses. He made a mental note to thank his father, who had given both Potter boys a _thorough_ tour of the school over the summer. Of course, James hadn't learned much. He had not been impressed with the tour and called Harry Potter an amateur.

The greenhouses were in a dilapidated state. Several windows were broken, green tendrils snaked over the walls, and insects buzzed around the ceiling. Albus covered his nose to ward off an intense aroma of fertilizer. "Morning, Mr. Potter!" greeted Neville, who stood in front of his class. "I'm thrilled to see you take your punctuality so seriously. It means so much to us teachers."

"Hello professor," Albus said, with his gaze on the floor, "I had a bit of trouble finding the place. Won't happen again."

Neville looked cheerful, though with a firm expression on his face. Albus found it awfully difficult to appear timid, since he'd known the man for as long as he could remember, but he attempted to look embarrassed nonetheless.

"Never worry, Albus, you arrived just in time. I'm in sudden need of a volunteer."

The rest of the students giggled, and Albus suspected they already knew about today's demonstration. His eyes glanced toward a silver sword mounted over the professor's head.

"What am I needed for, sir?"

Longbottom smiled while his hand reached into a small flower pot. He pulled out an ugly, writhing brown mass. Most of the plant was concentrated at its middle, which was a dirty and scaled. Albus traced his eyes over its roots, which swung lazily in the air, back and forth, as if the plant was bored with itself.

"A simple test, is all. You need only hold this thing in your hand."

Albus grasped the specimen around its middle, after taking a deep breath, and awaited whatever cruel punishment he had earned so quickly into the semester.

However, Albus felt no pain or discomfort from the plant. Its roots wrapped around his wrist slowly, and the leaves brushed against his hand like a pet animal. He tilted his head sideways, inspecting the strange organism. He had never met a _friendly_ plant before.

"What is it, professor?" asked a student from the back. "Does it always react like that?"

"Indeed, Mr. Harrington, it normally does… It senses the intention of its holder toward its owner. For example, if Mr. Potter had greatly disliked me, this plant would have tried to strangle him. Fortunately for Albus though, I've been enjoyable enough company over the holidays."

He winked at Albus, apparently quite proud of his lesson, although some of the first-years – Albus included – felt put off with the fact that a bipolar flower was let loose among them.

Rose raised her hand before speaking quietly to Professor Longbottom. "Isn't that a bit, um, _dangerous_?"

"Of course it's dangerous, although not in this particular case. This plant, recently discovered, is limited in its response. It draws its energy from magic in its immediate surroundings. So, say, if Albus _Dumbledore_ had touched the plant, it would have been far more active."

Rose eyed her cousin warily, as if wrestling for an appropriate response. Albus knew what she was going to ask.

"So, what we just saw was a baseline reaction, since Albus can't channel magic? I assume the plant would be as mild usually, without a source of magic holding it?"

Albus' cheeks grew warm while the other students realized what Rose had theorized. He was certainly embarrassed now. His own cousin considered him a waste of space, and everyone knew it.

"You would assume so, Miss Wesley." said Neville. Your mother would have made that connection also, and I'm sure she would be very interested to read your essay on the matter."

"My essay, professor?"

"Yes, Rose. Everyone will turn in 12 inches on this plant, Manis Majours, at the beginning of next week's lecture. Since the plant is so recently discovered, none of you will likely find any useful text in the library. Your only source of information will be located here, and it is in Mr. Potters hand. You will be studying the plant on your own time, without a scrap of help from either myself or another instructor. This is a test, of a sort, for a purpose that will later become obvious. You may spend the rest of the period speaking together and running whatever tests you wish. You can see any of your house prefects for a temporary key to the greenhouse this week, since you will surely need more time to study."

 _Merlin's Balls,_ thought Albus, _Herbology is going to be a nightmare._

He handed off the plant to an excited Ravenclaw, and subtlety stepped toward the back of the greenhouse. Neville continued the lecture for another thirty minutes, but didn't offer much useful information. Albus toyed with a potted Mandrake on his desk, half-listening, until a figure appeared in the doorway the same moment the bell rang, which signaled everyone's release.

Dan Culper, who Albus guiltily forgotten about, had gotten lost after all.

O

The first-years were allowed a free period after Herbology, and Albus walked with Dan around the lake. Fresh air was a commodity at Hogwarts, as its occupants spent most of their time in a musty, ancient castle, and both boys had a healthy appetite for adventure.

Dan paused his skipping of stones on the water, a quizzical expression on his features, and turned to his new friend. "So what's the story about the Slytherins, mate? Not a very happy bunch, ya know?

Albus rolled his eyes. "They've always been like that. Their founder, Salazar Slytherin, didn't believe muggleborns should be taught here. We've been warring with them about it for centuries."

Dan hardened his face. "Ah."

"Don't worry too much, mate." Albus said, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Gryffindor stands with you, along with the other houses, and it isn't nearly as bad as it used to be. My dad put a stop to all the killing and what not."

"Your dad sounds like a badass." Dan replied. "How do you handle the pressure, having that legacy hanging over you?"

Albus drew back, monitoring his own reaction. His friend had hit a soft spot, though Albus didn't fault him. It was a good question, one that needed answering. What was he supposed to do with his life? He always knew things would be bleak in his future, but he never realized, or more likely refused to acknowledge, how necessary magic was in most occupations.

"Yeah, he is a good auror." Albus' eyes drifted. "I suspect James has it worse than I do, though. People can't rightly expect much from me, what with being a squib and all."

Dan winced. "I forgot about that."

"I'll be alright, mate." Albus laughed heartlessly. "I have high hopes about this program." It was a lie, but Albus didn't want to burden his only friend, especially with something so personal.

Albus' concentration was broken as a centaur burst through the tree line on the other side of the lake. It paused, looking at the castle, and leaped back into the foliage as suddenly as it arrived. The boys looked across the loch quietly.

"Hey, Albus?" Dan spoke slowly.

"Yeah?"

"What in the effing name of Margaret Thatcher's left shoestring was _that_?"

"Something that shouldn't have been there, Dan." Albus responded worriedly. "Come on, we've got to find the next class."

O

The following class, Magical Theory, was set in a large classroom. The desks were sat on platforms which tiered upward. Albus reserved a front-row seat, eager to learn more about the strange muggle-teacher. He had a vague idea of what the man did in the muggle world; he was a scientist.

Although Albus, like everyone else, had many questions about Odette's qualifications.

The classroom was large enough to include all the first-years, Albus noticed, when children of every house began to arrvie. Each house dominated its own corner of the room, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw at the front, and Slytherin and Hufflepuff toward the back.

A door suddenly swung open from the side of the room, and Professor Odette stepped toward his desk with a brown briefcase in hand. He wore a typical black suit with a striking orange shirt underneath. He looked over his students, as if gauging their attitude, and began to speak.

"Can anyone give me a definition of energy?"

The class was silent.

"Can anyone tell me where Earth came from?"

The class remained silent.

"Can anyone tell me why dropped things always fall downward?"

"Gravity, sir?" answered Rose.

The professor looked from his desk, toward Rose, and smiled. "You are mostly correct Miss Weasley. Just to humor me, how do you think gravity works?"

Rose didn't respond.

"Can anyone share their thoughts on Newton's Law of Gravitation? I won't blame you if you are wrong. Being wrong is not a bad thing, so long as you are willing to take a chance and freely admit it when you're incorrect. Please, I'll give 10 points for an answer, regardless of its quality."

Albus raised his hand immediately, eager to redeem his reputation after his outburst the previous evening. If Gryffindors appreciated any kind of gift, it was copious amounts of house points.

"Mr. Potter, what do you think?"

Albus felt his hands sweat, and he nibbled on the end of his quill, trying to buy time.

"Is it a type of magic, sir?"

The professor toyed with handle of his briefcase. "What are some different types of magic, Albus? Give me three examples."

"Err, I know of enchantments, curses, and transformations."

The professor smiled wide, and Albus relaxed some under his gaze. He noticed that the man seemed young, yet aged. Strands of grey could be seen poking through his thin hair, and wrinkles had gathered around his eyes. However, the man seemed upbeat, as if he was worried about very little, if anything at all.

"Do you think those types of magic are different, structurally, or do you believe that every magic is channeled from a common source?"

"I don't know."

"That's okay, Mr. Potter. This class would benefit from following your example. Everyone should ALWAYS voice his or her thoughts, but NEVER pretend to know something they do not. Ten points for Gryffindor, as promised, plus an extra five for demonstrating the subtle art of admitting defeat."

"For the curious types out there, Mr. Potter is partly correct. At least, I suspect he is. We have reason to believe that magic has something to do with fundamental forces, like gravity. We will study the theory later in your studies, when I've acquired the proper resources."

Albus attempted to hide a sense of pride, even if it was earned though nothing other than blind luck.

The professor raised a textbook high above his head, making a sweeping motion with his other arm. "This, students, will be your best friend this year. This simple book will transform your own reality. The words within its pages will change your very soul forever, if you have the stomach for such an adventure. Not many are capable of it, sadly."

He waited a moment, letting his words linger in the air.

"This – as you can plainly see – is 'Magic for Beginners', a common text for first-years. It has been through many editions and has been adopted by the Hogwarts curriculum for nearly a century."

The students nervously exchanged glances. Albus frowned slightly, fearing the teacher was, after all, ridiculously inexperienced. Everybody knew that 'Magic for Beginners' was a bore. He would wager that even Lily knew most of its material. It covered basic magical mechanics, like how wands and spells worked. The class was silenced with confusion, aside from a few snickers from the Slytherin corner. Albus couldn't blame them.

"Why the long faces, children?" asked Odette. He blankly looked upon his students, hand and book still in the air. "Have you no confidence in your course material?"

The students shrugged their shoulders, most flipping through the pages of their personal copies. Albus swept his eyes over the book's cover, which was a leather-carved depiction of two crossed wands.

"Your first assignment this year…" the professor began, drawing out his voice, "is to find a mistake within these pages."

Albus dropped his jaw, having lost control of himself. The whole class erupted in muted conversation. He heard whispers volley around the classroom, and a few students didn't bother to soften their voices.

"What is he playing at?"

"Does he want everyone to fail?"

"My own grandfather wrote half of that book!"

"Easy, everyone!" the professor shouted. "You will not be tested on your success or failure. I only ask that each of you discover an interesting 'fact' inside your book. You will submit to me, in writing, your topic of choice at our next lesson, and from there we will determine how to test the credibility of your topic. You may either choose to defend a recognized magical element, or you may choose to test it. Points will be awarded to those of you who demonstrate a good measure of logic, consistency, and creativity. I am also happy to declare that absolutely anything is allowed, short of anything illegal. What I mean, of course, is that you may use whatever resources you desire to complete your assignment. There is no such thing as cheating in this classroom. I am interested in results, not rules."

Albus hung his head and felt his palms begin to sweat. He glanced toward the Slytherin students and was struck with a desire to run in another direction. Many of them were staring at their professor with pure, unrefined hatred.

To each of them, he was a muggle trying to overtake wizardry. He was a bug who had overstayed his welcome. Perhaps he had been considered an oddity at first, something to laugh at, but he had now declared war on magic.

Professor Odette caught their gazes, and returned an expression of indifference. Albus could practically hear the professor's thoughts, even though no words were spoken. He was committed to ripping the world to pieces.

Albus stared at the man before him, as everyone else did, but he didn't see a crazed, meddling middle-aged muggle with a death wish. Instead, he saw something that he'd only ever heard about in stories. He was in the presence of something greater than himself, something greater than any one person. He was in the presence of an idea. A captivating model of the future which would take the world by storm, wrought by the sheer will of one muggle.

He beheld Professor Odette with a sense of awe, realizing that he may have found his very own Albus Dumbledore.

Breaking the silence, the professor stepped from his desk toward the chalkboard. "While all of us, including myself, would prefer every lecture to be mesmerizingly exciting," he began, "there will be an unfortunate amount of typical, bland study throughout this course, beginning today. Please take out your parchment and quills. We're taking a good deal of notes today."

Slowly, the class marched through a comprehensive history of 5th century magic, learning the origins of spell work, potions, and herbology. Albus suspected the teacher started his lecture with such a startling stunt for the sole purpose of assuring the attention of the students later, who were now struggling to stay awake, save Rose Weasley.

While the content was undeniably dry, Albus was impressed with Odette's style. The man was indisputably comical at times, and he often asked the students questions, encouraging debates. When the bell rang, the professor said nothing to the students while they marched past. Albus offered a faint smile when he passed.

O

Albus looked over the Gryffindor table with a fleeting sigh of hopelessness. He would have enjoyed the treacle tart – like his brother was currently – but he had work to do. Dan spoke while helping himself to some potatoes. "Do you reckon that Odette bugger realized that the 'next lesson' was tomorrow?"

Albus feebly nodded his head. He realized mere moments before dinner, to his dismay, that their assignment was due the very next morning. He found it difficult to read his theory textbook properly, since his mind was still numbed from listening to Professor Binns drawl for nearly two hours.

Rose Weasley stretched toward him, having finished her own meal earlier. "Which topic have you chosen for tomorrow, Albus?" She sat opposite from Dan and looked toward Albus with a thoughtful expression.

He'd wager she had decided her own the moment Odette's words left his mouth.

"I want to decide on something difficult, yet reachable. It's a shame we never had science tutors. He clearly wants us to use muggle methods to complete the project."

"Yes, I agree. If it makes you feel any better, I am no more prepared than any of you. I think I will write about the thermodynamic entropy involved in freezing charms, but I'm not sure yet. I suppose there is always the obvious option of testing the gravitational acceleration within the radius of a levitation charm, but I'd be afraid somebody else might choose that one."

Albus handed her some dessert, in hopes it would shut her up.

"Hey, I think I found something!" Dan exclaimed, while glancing at Albus' opened textbook. "It says, per Gump's Law of Elemental Transformation, you can't conjure food from thin air. That would be simple to prove wrong, though a bit difficult to prove correct. What do you think?"

"That would be just as good a topic as any other I suppose." Albus agreed. "You should take it. I would take another exemption from the law, so we could share research, but I want to explore some other options first. I want something big."

"What's bigger than creating something from nothing?"

"Of course it's an interesting topic…. but it isn't my style."

Dan scoffed. "Do whatever you need to mate, but don't blame me when you are dead tired tomorrow because you stayed up reading a musty book by the fire. God knows you'll be doing that enough after your literature class starts."

Albus grinded his teeth together. He didn't need a reminder of his 'adapted curriculum'. Being forced to sit thorough boring classes while his friends practiced spell work bothered him more than he liked. His frustration also stemmed from a liberal about of self-disgust. He had worked diligently to accept his role in wizarding society, as a squib. He had grown a thick skin over many years. Although now, when he was surrounded by other children using magic, the severity of his condition seemed much more disabling.

Albus glanced toward the staff table, in hopes that Professor Odette would be available. Albus felt a shameful urge to give the man a pointed look, for making him miss dessert, but the professor wasn't at his seat. Al wondered if he ate separately, in his quarters, or if he returned home after classes ended.

What Albus did notice, however, was the headmaster watching his cousin Rose curiously, as if she had grown an extra head or done something similarly impossible. He dropped his gaze quickly though, and Albus inspected his cousin for any odd differences. She seemed normal as ever, so far as he could tell.

O

Dan's prediction turned out to be incredibly accurate. Albus estimated the time to be somewhere around two o'clock. Even the N.E.W.T. students had gone to bed, and the common room was left with an eerie stillness in the air. His eyes were still glued to his textbook, though his mind had lost its focus several hours prior. His eyelids dropped several times, but he willed himself to stay alert. The warm fire wasn't doing him any favors.

A small voice suddenly rose from the other side of the room, near the dormitory stairwell. "What are you doing up so late?"

He would have leaped from his seat, if he'd been less exhausted. The voice belonged to Valerie, the presumed daughter of Professor Odette. She wore a loose purple nightgown and her hair was tied up behind her head. Albus wasn't sure why she'd bothered, seeing how her hair wasn't long to begin with.

"I could ask the same of you." Albus replied, using a light tone. "I am working on our assignment. I assume he is a relative of yours?"

"You would assume correctly. He is my uncle."

Albus shook his head slightly, trying to shake the sleepiness from his mind. "Are you a witch or muggle, Valerie?"

She backed off slightly, with a diminished expression on her face. "Does it matter?"

"It does to most people… although most people aren't squibs."

"That's why I wanted to speak with you. I hoped that you would be different from the rest."

"I am completely different. To be shunned away from magic, when you see it so often, is an awful thing to live with. I almost envy you. At least you have a common group of people to identify with." Albus normally wouldn't have admitted that to anyone, especially a stranger, but he had - in a moment of moodiness - taken advantage of some left-over butterbeer earlier, courtesy of the seventh-years.

But she didn't seem bothered by his outburst. In fact, she closed the distance by a few meters and grew a subtle smile. "To answer your question, I will show you something. Would you like to come over here, to the window? Put out the fire, if you don't mind."

Albus did as she asked, suddenly aware of his ridiculous sleepwear. His pajamas had been a gift from his uncle Ron. Both his shirt and pants were bright orange and were covered with flying quidditch players. He gladly extinguished the fire, and the common room fell into darkness.

He joined her by the open window and breathed in chilly air from outside. He could feel the humidity enter the room as dew gathered around the window glass. She must have recently washed her hair, because it smelled like fresh flowers, the very same flowers that his mum grew outside their home in Godric's Hollow. He'd forgotten what they were called.

"Do you see that flashing dot in the sky – right over that mountain top?"

Albus did see it, though he had to squint his eyes. The blinking dot was hung in the air and looked like a star moving across the skyscape. The sight was a peaceful one, and both children enjoyed a tranquil moment watching its slow trek over the mountain ridge.

"It's a muggle craft flying through space." Valerie continued, with a hushed voice. "There are muggles who live up there, way above the world. Can you imagine what the Earth looks like from there? Astronauts – the muggles who work in space – often say our planet looks fragile, like a giant blue egg. I've also heard that it is an experience to see it without the borders of countries, without any distinct way to see the barriers that we humans place against one another."

Albus had heard of satellites before, from his grandfather. He'd been told that the muggles shoot into the sky using explosions underneath themselves. He never truly believed the stories, but enjoyed with stories anyway. It was fun, Albus thought, to hear about 'muggle magic', as many wizards called it.

He glanced at Valerie and smiled. "Thank you for showing me. I can see why you stayed up for it. Do you think all those stars have planets of their own, and muggles to fly around them?"

She raised her eyebrows and exhaled loudly. "I don't know. The muggles would likely be gone now, though, through means of their own destruction or by way of moving elsewhere. The light from those stars left hundreds or even thousands of years ago. We're only able see very old light, since it travels too slow."

He turned his head quizzically. "Light travels _slow_?"

"Compared to the distance between the stars, yes."

He looked at her seriously. "How could you possibly know that?"

"A very smart muggle figured out the motions of Jupiter's moons. He used muggle devices to find the distance between where the moons _should_ have been, rather than where they _appeared_ to be."

"That sounds like a weak argument." Albus replied flatly.

"We have tested it with lasers by now, obviou- "

"A laser?" he interrupted, smiling.

"It's a wicked cool instrument that concentrates light in one direction, like a water hose, for lack of a better example. Although the study of light gets much crazier. The really weird thing about the speed of light is how special the number is."

Valerie was having fun, Albus noticed, and he felt a desire to keep asking questions. He noted that talking about muggles was comforting for her, as if it reminded her that her old world still existed. His aunt Hermione had experienced the same condition, as he once learned after asking about life at Hogwarts.

"What's so special about the number?"

"Nothing can exceed that speed, because time will literally slow down for an object approaching that number. Once it hits that exact speed, time will simply stop for that object, and it will be locked in a standstill, as any passenger would observe. The universe _doesn't_ like people trying to mess with that number. Muggles claim that if anything is constant, if there was any one thing that they could safely bet all their chips on, it would be that principle."

She patiently waited for Albus to wrap his head around the concept and expected him to refuse the notion outright, as any true wizard would. Instead, she was surprised to see him promptly turn around, sprint to his seat, and frantically light a candle. He hurriedly flipped through the pages of his textbook and lost himself in his homework. He rapidly scribbled on his spare parchment, not once glancing back toward Valerie during the exchange.

Having witnessed her uncle in such a state before, she didn't interrupt while Albus worked himself into a frenzy. She slipped across the room unnoticed, and crawled through the portrait hole. She waited a few moments, listening to the scratching of his quill, until she resolved herself to finish her actual plans for the night. She closed the Fat Lady's portrait behind her, confident that Albus hadn't noticed her leaving.


	3. Discourse of a Madman

_Mum and Dad,_

 _I feel positively awful for not writing earlier. My time at Hogwarts has been swamped with coursework, and I haven't had an opportunity to write home since our arrival. As you've likely heard by now, both Rose and I were sorted to Gryffindor. I enjoy my housemates a lot, and Gryffindor tower is definitely cozy enough. I have made friends with a muggleborn named Dan, and we get along famously. Also, I've been introduced to the theory professor's niece, Valerie. She's very strange, even by muggle standards, but seems to be friendly and helpful._

 _Has dad tracked down any of the attackers from last week? I hope he hasn't been working in the field again. He should listen to the healers more often, and both James and I worry for his health. I'd love to tell you about my classes, but breakfast is nearly over. I figured that you would prefer to get a half-letter today rather than a full one tomorrow._

 _I love you,_

 _Albus_

Albus tied the parchment around his owl's leg and set the bird off into the air. He was worried about his dad, who had developed an impressive collection of scars over the course of his auror career. He had recently taken a reductor curse to the shoulder and had been strongly urged to rest before attempting any physical activity.

Of course, Albus knew his father would resign before staying in his office all day. He was committed to keeping his aurors safe, at any cost. His parents frequently rowed about his hero complex, and Albus sometimes wished he would transfer elsewhere in the ministry. Every auror, if he stayed long enough, would eventually meet wands with a luckier wizard. Things weren't nearly as dangerous as they used to be, though. His father hadn't lost anybody for several years, but tensions were building again in the wizarding world. Albus knew his dad wouldn't leave the position until the entire country was safe, and such a state was impossible. Every time a rouge wizard was captured, another madman would start slaughtering elsewhere.

Albus had enjoyed a relaxed morning so far. He wasn't scheduled for an eight o'clock class, and he didn't have to spend time getting up from bed – because he hadn't _gone_ to bed. His theory homework kept him busy well into the early morning, and he decided that he'd probably miss class altogether if he tried to sleep.

Not having Dan or Rose around was uncomfortable. Not necessarily because he needed them around, although he did enjoy their company, but because he knew where they were. Both students were currently enjoying their first Charms class.

"Oi, Potter!" said a voice from behind him. He turned and, with a good deal of surprise, met the face of Scorpius Malfoy.

"What do you need, Malfoy?" replied Albus flatly.

"You should be more friendly, Albus. I have information that would, if you were privy to it, make your life immeasurably better."

Albus had been warned about the Malfoys. They were notorious for exchanging secrets and favors for influence. His aunt Hermione unconditionally detested the lot of them, especially since the defeat of her house-elf reformation bill. Of course, on the other hand, his father had also told him to never judge a man by his family.

"What are you talking about, Scorpius?" asked Albus. He intentionally used the boy's first name as an olive branch. He hoped the young Malfoy was better-mannered than his relatives.

"The Slytherins didn't take too kindly toward your eagerness in class yesterday. I would advise you to speak less freely around the rest of my house."

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?" hissed Albus.

"Yes, it's a threat. Although it doesn't come directly from me... There is a game being played at Hogwarts this year."

"Who would hurt me? I doubt you could do much more magic than me, Malfoy."

Scorpius shut his eyes and took a quick breath. "Shut up, and _listen_ to me Potter. There are dangerous people inside this school. If you make yourself bigger of a target – and I assure you that you're already one – then bad things will happen."

"Why do you care?"

"Because Harry Potter saved my father's life. This is me paying the debt."

"I hardly think the two favors equate… I don't have Lord Voldemort on my heels."

"What's coming for you is worse than the Dark Lord."

"Bullocks."

"I have warned you Potter. The debt is paid."

The trim of his cloak brushed against Al's shoulder as the boy turned and marched from the Gryffindor table. He stepped with a type of precision, Albus noticed, as if Scorpius Malfoy was closely watching his own actions.

O

"Miss Weasley, what have you chosen for your project?" asked the professor. The class had marinated overnight, and Albus could feel the conflict in the air. Scorpius was eyeing Al warily, and he subtly shook his head when they locked gazes. Albus ignored him.

"I decided to test the second causation principle, sir."

Albus wasn't sure which chapter her topic had originated from, and apparently nobody else knew either. None of the other students reacted in any extreme manner. Most of them shot confused looks at neighbors, trying to ascertain what the hell Rose Weasley had just said.

The only other person who seemed to know anything about her principle was the professor. He reared his head back and laughed a good deal.

"I did not expect that at all, especially from a first year. I should reprimand you for being cocky, although I suppose I did say 'no rules'. You are living up to your status of Gryffindor, since your endeavor will certainly require more courage than wit, should you properly test it. Please see me later in the semester, the moment you figure out how you'll approach it."

A Ravenclaw from a corner of the room raised his hand and coughed, to get Odette's attention. "That's not very fair" he said, rolling his eyes. "We were told to choose from the textbook, not from ministry reports."

"No matter, Mr. Jones. I will accept her submission, if only to break away from the monotony of everyone else. You are free to do so also, if you can think of a similar project by the end of class. Do I have any volunteers to share their topic of choice?"

He looked directly at Scorpius.

"I have chosen," Malfoy began with a smirk, "to defend the first tenet of magical theory, that any natural action can be duplicated, more easily, by using magic."

The professor tilted an eyebrow. "But you would be working examples for centuries, demonstrating every possible spell individually. How do you plan to test it?"

Malfoy sat back in his seat, relaxed, and said, "you can assign me one action you believe magic can't do. If I create the spell, I win. If not, I lose."

"That's a gross simplification of science, Mr. Malfoy. It would prove nothing if you were successful. Although I will play along, to prove a point. I will task you to do something that I've been meaning to tackle myself. Please join me later for instructions."

He took a breath before continuing, "and what has Mr. Potter decided?"

"To test the nature of apparition, specifically it's speed and route. The book instructs us that apparition is both instantaneous AND a direct path from one point to another."

"And why does that seem odd to you, Albus? Do you mean to say that you are more likely to trust Albert Einstein than Great Merlin himself?"

Albus didn't respond. Every student in the room was looking at him, eager to see the boy tie his own noose. He was about to commit political suicide, and everybody knew it.

"I think we should consider every possibility, if we want to understand magic better."

He expected an uproar from the Slytherins, scoffing from the Ravenclaws, even harsh looks from his own house. What he didn't expect was the utter silence that followed. Every person fell back to whatever they were doing before, with the exception of Scorpius Malfoy, who tightened his grip on the edge of his desk and dug his fingernails into the wood.

The class continued with a few more discussions about project submissions – some were ingenious, enough to delight the professor, but many were downright pathetic. Every Slytherin in the class had, naturally, defended the textbook.

"Now, students…" Professor Odette began, "it's time to begin our journey of magical theory. It will prove uncomfortable for most, pleasurable for some, and likely fatal for a few."

The students shared a moment of nervous laughter. Albus could faintly hear someone behind him. "What the fu – "

"Never fear, though!" exclaimed their instructor. "As dangerous as our experiments may be, even our discussions at times, you'll find yourselves to be better wizards for it. It will be our goal – for the next seven years – to accomplish something which has eluded all men for millennia. Yours will be the first generation to do what used to be impossible – to reconcile magic and man, to close the divide between truth and folly. It will be you - a group of children - to prove the might of wizardry, and I suspect some of your names will be revered for centuries."

The room was filled with a pregnant silence. Even the Slytherins were hanging off the edges of their seats, faces marked with concentration.

"I ask each of you now, individually, what are you willing to sacrifice? Which notions are you willing to set aside for greatness? Are you prepared to anger your friends – to lose your prejudices in the wake of a better world? Do you have the ability to change your very soul… because if you do – if you are capable of it – then you would take the world by storm. You could be the Merlin of a new era.

The professor raised his head, sweeping the room with a stern gaze.

"Each of you, by the time we're finished here, will have the ability to save our planet from the conflicts of tomorrow. You will make time, space, and energy bend to your will. The most important question you'll have to answer, after all is said and finished, is whether you'll be a force of goodwill, acting for the interest of all, or whether you will be a destroyer of worlds, a harbinger of destruction aiding only yourself. It will be my job to teach you, and I will certainly do so, but I am also responsible for what you do _after_ you leave this classroom. Because of the seriousness of our studies, I warn you not to give me any reason to doubt your intentions. No Voldemort will be spawned from my lecturing. That, I promise you, is a certainty."

Albus exhaled a breath, one that he'd been holding for a while, and looked down into his hands. He wasn't sure what would come of Odette's meddling with magic, but a quick peek toward the Slytherin corner confirmed that it wasn't going to be good. Most of the green-clad students were glassy-eyed, carefully considering their own positions within the classroom.

Dan leaned toward Albus, eyes still transfixed on the professor, and whispered, "Wouldn't be Hogwarts without a barmy teacher, eh?"


End file.
